


Invite Me In

by devdevlin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hermione and Tom attended Hogwarts at the same time AU, I Tried, I know I'm way over the word count, I'm Sorry, Tom and Hermione have a history, Tomione Smut Fest 2020, Vampire Sex, don't judge me ok, vampire!Tom, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:48:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24366061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devdevlin/pseuds/devdevlin
Summary: Hermione's been having some of the strangest dreams about her ex, lately...Written in response to the 'Vampire AU' prompt for the Tomione Smut Fest 2020
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 30
Kudos: 361
Collections: Tomione Smut Fest 2020





	Invite Me In

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [TomioneSmutFest20](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TomioneSmutFest20) collection. 



> One day, I aspire to write for a fest and not obliterate the word count rule 😊 I am SORRY, okay, but I hope the numerous dirty scenes make up for it...
> 
> Warning for dub-con, dirty dreams and an obscene amount of run-on sentences lmao

Hermione tipped her head back, a deep moan forming in the base of her throat as his fingers traced over the tender skin of her hips. He stroked her considerately, delicately, as if his palms weren't pinning her down, as if each flick of his tongue wasn't giving her a taste of torture.

"You—no idea how much I missed this." Her legs trembled over his shoulders and her fingers tightened around the pillow by her head. "Missed you."

He momentarily paused, looked up at her from between her thighs, his lips glistening. " _Good_."

She whimpered at the depth of his tone and when he gave his attention back to her clit, she could've cried.

Because no one had ever taken the time to know her body the way he had. No one but him had ever really found what made her tick, what made her unravel and what made her _writhe_.

No one but him. No one but Tom, Tom—

" _Tom—_ "

He stopped again, _right_ when she was on the brink, and pressed the pad of his thumb against her clit with just enough pressure to keep her on edge but not quite enough for her to come. She whined, then, and when she did, he laughed against her, the sound low and sinful.

He leaned back, far enough to look up at her, and Hermione's first thought was to demand he stop teasing her.

But when she met his eyes, the words died in her throat.

His eyes were _red_.

"I—Tom?" Hermione bucked and attempted to scoot back on the bed, but his other hand tightened around her hips, holding her down in place. "What—what happened to your—"

" _Shh_ ," he hissed slowly, gently, taking his time as he leaned back in to run the length of his tongue along her slit. "Don't worry. It won't hurt," he murmured against her.

"I—what? Tom, you're— you're scaring me."

"Shh, shh, my love. I just... I want one... small... taste..."

He shifted further down the bed, his nose tracing over the delicate skin of her inner thigh as he went. He breathed her in, deeply, slowly, and Hermione tried once more to break out of his hold.

But he didn't let her go.

"Tom," she tried again, pulling her leg with more force than the first time as he gently pulled her flesh between his teeth. "Tom, stop—"

But he didn't stop, and then, she felt a distinct sharpness as his teeth dug into her thigh, and Hermione—

She screamed.

She yelled and fought, and thrashed to throw him off, kicking and bucking against her mattress until—

She shot up in her bed, panting wildly. She blindly felt out her surroundings in the dark, and it was only once she was sure that he wasn't there on the bed with her that she realised that she was very much clothed, very much alone, just as she'd been when she'd fallen asleep.

Hermione panted, her heart rate gradually slowing as she leaned back against her headboard. She ran her hands over her forehead, wiping the beading sweat from her skin.

 _God_.

It'd only been a dream. Just a dream.

But it'd felt so _real_.

And—fuck. Her underwear was damp, and her legs were still trembling, and it felt as though the brink of orgasm she'd been teetering on had been entirely real.

 _What_ a dream.

Hermione quickly untangled her feet from her blankets and crept out of bed toward her bathroom, taking calming breaths as she went.

She switched on the bathroom light and instinctively bent to check her leg.

Her skin was smooth.

There were no bite marks.

It was then that she realised how stupid she was being. Of course there were no bite marks. Aside from the fact that Tom wasn't a vampire, it'd only been a dream. A ridiculously vivid dream, but still, just a dream.

She sighed and pressed the palms of her hands down over her eyes, and then, she swore. If there was one person to blame for this, it was Horace Slughorn.

Had she not received that blasted invitation to his ten-year reunion party the previous morning, she never would've spent an entire day reminiscing about Tom.

And why would she have? She hadn't let herself think about Tom in years. _Years._ But then, with one silly letter, all her self-control had crumbled and all of her memories of him had all come flooding back in.

They'd dated when they'd attended Hogwarts. For seven months, she and Tom had been the power-couple of their year, Head Boy and Girl, Slughorn's most prized couple amongst his students.

But then, the school year had approached upon its end, and Tom became more and more convinced he wanted to _travel_ after graduating. He wanted to see the world, see everything the world of magic had to offer, work casually and only when required, and she... well. She didn't make it to her position as a Deputy Head in the Ministry by _travelling the world_.

When they'd broken up, it'd been amicable. They'd both been calm about it, hadn't fought. They simply discussed their differences and... decided to go their separate ways.

It'd been mutual, and Hermione most certainly wasn't still bitter about it, not after all of these years.

She _wasn't_.

...

Well.

Maybe she was.

But only a little!

Because he'd been her _first_. Her first proper relationship, her first shag, her first _love_ , and he hadn't fought for her, hadn't even been willing to consider compromising for her. He'd just let her go, and so, it was only natural that she was still a little bit bitter about the whole thing.

But she definitely wasn't bitter enough for it to warrant sex dreams, and she definitely wasn't about to go letting herself getting caught back up on him over a ridiculous... _fantasy_ , or whatever the hell that dream had been.

No.

No, she most definitely would not.

* * *

The skin of her back rubbed against the coarse linen of her sofa angrily, surely giving her one hell of a carpet burn, but Hermione barely felt it.

No, she couldn't feel anything else but the thickness of his fingers, their slick movements, in and out, and _in and out and_ —

" _Ah—_ fuck." She whined when he pulled out much too soon and followed his movements with a buck of her hips. "Don't—don't stop, why did you—"

He rumbled a laugh and with a hand low on her pelvis, he pushed her down flat against the sofa before he nipped at her earlobe. " _Patiencccce_."

He hissed in the same way that she'd loved listening to when they were teenagers, in the same way that only ever escaped him when he was completely off guard, and it made the coiling in her stomach twist harder.

She pushed up against him. "Tom. Tom, _please_ , I need you to _—_ "

Another laugh, and then he hitched her leg up, hooking it around his waist, forcing them together. The feel of his cock instead of his fingers, thick and hard against her, had her whimpering in anticipation and when he finally slid inside—oh. Oh, _oh—_

It'd been so long. So long that she didn't even remember what it felt like, to have something that wasn't a toy inside of her.

But now, with him, with—

" _Tom—_ "

He groaned into her hair when she ran her nails down his back. "Is this what you wanted?" His voice was low and scratchy, strained, and it had her clenching around him. "Is this— what you've been dreaming of?"

"Ye— _ah_ , yes."

He leaned back and grinned, fucking her steadily, and when Hermione saw his teeth, sharp and elongated, she tensed, gripping at his forearms tightly.

And there was that laugh again.

"Don't be afraid," Tom murmured, gradually slowing his movements as he reached down to trail his hand down her neck, over her collarbone and down her sternum. "It won't hurt for long."

With those five words, Hermione's priorities suddenly shifted from coming to avoiding being murdered.

"No." She squirmed beneath him, trying to free herself, "no, I don't—stop!"

Tom's smile grew wider. "Ah, but Hermione, don't you see?" he drawled as he leaned in, the action pushing his cock deeper. " _You're already mine_."

He leaned in slowly, as if making a show of it, and when Hermione shoved up onto his chest, he easily caught her fists and held them back against the armrest of the couch.

And then, his teeth pierced into her throat.

Hermione lost it. She screamed and shoved against his arms, bucking and thrashing, and it was only when Tom started to move again, fucking her in small, slow movements, that she realised it didn't actually _hurt._

Although his bite had initially stung, it also... _didn't._

The pain at the base of her neck quickly turned into more of a pressure, a pulling, and almost as she registered that fact, it ebbed further still, shifting and melting away until all that was left was a pleasant warmth.

She stopped fighting him as her screams died off to become whimpers, and when he pulled out all the way, she lifted her hips to meet his next intrusion.

And it was...

Nerves Hermione didn't know she had were firing, and her head was getting lighter. Her toes and fingers started to tingle with a lack of feeling and she was starting to have trouble breathing, but Tom didn't stop.

He only fucked her harder into the couch, his movements becoming animalistic, unrestrained, and with her surroundings starting to blur together, it was _euphoric_.

His hips met hers with loud snaps and—fuck—somehow the muscles in her stomach were coiling, and she was...

_Oh—_

She was going to—

Hermione's eyes shot open and it took her several long moments to realise that she was, yet again, alone in her bed. She twisted in her sheets, the muscles of her cunt clenching around nothing, and at the sheer feeling of emptiness, she could've cried.

_Christ._

_She needed to get laid._

Slowly, and on unstable legs, she got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. She turned the shower on, setting the water nice and warm, fully anticipating finishing herself off with her hand-held shower head.

She pulled her clothes off, and while she waited for the water to heat, she let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

With Slughorn's party less than twenty-four hours away, she wasn't so surprised that she'd dreamt of Tom again. But just like the first time, it'd been so _vivid_ , and she easily recalled the intricate details in better clarity than she tended to remember real events.

The coolness of his skin against hers, the sound of his ragged breathing, the thickness of his fingers, _his cock stretching her so wide_ —

Hermione didn't let herself finish that thought and hopped in the shower then without a care for what the temperature was.

She didn't get out again for a very, very long time.

* * *

Despite her recurrent X-rated dreams, Hermione was reassured by her firm belief that there was no way in hell that Tom would be attending Slughorn's party.

All of those years ago, he'd spoken of travelling with such a hunger and passion that she _knew_ he'd never give it up early, especially not for some silly reunion party. He hadn't even liked his classmates. He hadn't liked Slughorn, either.

And so, she was sure. He definitely wouldn't be there, and there was no point working herself up.

But regardless, Hermione still wanted to flaunt her success to those who had made fun of her in school, and so, she opted for the nicest black dress she owned. It was one that ended above her knees and clung to her tightly enough to show that she still had a youthful figure, yet not so tightly to be inappropriate. It went low enough in the front to show that she had _some_ curves, but not so low as to leave nothing to the imagination.

It was perfect and it had absolutely nothing to do with Tom.

"Are you planning on getting some tonight?" Ginny asked, leaning in the bathroom doorway while Hermione was fixing her hair.

Hermione stopped poking at her half up-do to glare at Ginny. "I just... want to look nice."

Ginny gave her a knowing look and hummed, " _mhmm_."

Hermione shrugged. "It's Slughorn. You never know who he might've invited."

Ginny raised her eyebrows in consideration. "I suppose. Harry mentioned the last time he went, _four_ Chudley Cannon players were there. I knew I should've gone with..."

While Ginny left her to finish getting ready, Hermione touched up her eyelashes and observed her handiwork.

There.

Good.

When she was done with her makeup, she headed out into her living room and found Ginny waiting patiently by the fireplace.

Initially, it was supposed to be Ron, Harry and herself going together. But then Harry got sent overseas for work at the last minute and Ron had refused to go without him, leaving Hermione on her own. She'd considered just not going, but then Ginny had offered to accompany her, and so, the plan was set.

To be completely honest, Hermione wasn't particularly bothered by Harry and Ron pulling out. She'd have a better night out with Ginny, anyway.

"Ready?"

When Hermione nodded, Ginny wasted no time in ducking into the fireplace, and with a burst of green flames, she was gone.

Well, Hermione thought. Too late to back out now.

She took her own handful of floo powder from the bucket on the mantle, and when she got into the fireplace, she had a sudden feeling of general unease. But she quickly brushed it off, and, thinking nothing of it, she threw the floo powder and followed Ginny to Hogwarts.

* * *

Slughorn's office didn't look anywhere close to how she remembered it.

Instead of the tidy, emerald green space she'd grown accustomed to over the course of his Slug Club meetings, the room had been converted to look more like the Great Hall. House banners were levitating by the ceiling, four tables filled with food and distinct house colours spanned the room, there was a band playing on the far side of the room, and the space was _packed_.

Slughorn really knew how to throw a party.

"Wow."

Hermione agreed with Ginny's assessment. "Yeah."

"I don't know about you, but I could go for a drink before we see anyone we know," Ginny said, and with eyes like a hawk, she had no trouble spotting the makeshift bar on the Slytherin table. "Huh. How fitting."

Hermione followed Ginny over, and as they went, she was struck by how easily she recognised her old classmates.

Ernie Macmillan had put on a decent bit of weight, but she had no trouble spotting him between Hannah Abbott and Justin Finch-Fletchley. Pansy Parkinson's hair was shorter than she'd ever seen it, but Zabini and Goyle still seemed to be hanging onto her every word.

"Oh, Merlin," Ginny said, snatching up a large glass of red wine and taking a sip. "Did you see that hairy thing Millicent Bullstrode is wearing?"

"That's not very nice." Hermione chose a glass of red for herself, too.

" _I'm_ not very nice," Ginny retorted. "And oh, did you see Lisa and Terry, by the windows? They got married a few years ago, did you know?"

"I did hear about that, actually." Hermione took two consecutive mouthfuls of her wine. It was going to be a long night. "Good for them."

As they stepped back from the bar, Ginny stood on the tips of her toes, peering through the crowd. "I wonder who Slughorn's schmoozing," she said as they went. "I'm surprised he didn't drop everything to show you off the moment we got here," Ginny laughed.

"Well," Hermione said. "I'm certainly not the only one from our year who's achieved something in the last ten years. Harry is Harry, and Neville's a professor now, after all, and Mandy Brocklehurst—you know, from Ravenclaw?—recently was promoted to Undersecretary, so I suppose he's got a reasonable amount of past students to gush over. And then there's all of his other connections he tends to invite to these sort of things, and I actually think I saw Ludo Bagman just back there by the bar, so he must be really spoiled for ch—"

"Hermione."

"—oice." Hermione glanced over at Ginny's interruption, and, seeing her looking in the other direction, frowned. "Were you even listening to a word I was saying?"

"Never mind that," Ginny said dismissively, eyes focused on the other side of the room. "Is that... oh my God, it _is!_ "

At Ginny's excitement, Hermione rolled her eyes and peered over in the direction Ginny was looking. "Hmm?"

"Over—over there, by the window with Slughorn and Malfoy. Is... is that who I think it is?"

Hermione looked in the direction that Ginny's finger was pointed in, and just as she'd claimed, there were Slughorn and Malfoy in close conversation with a tall, dark-haired and darkly clothed figure.

At the sight of the figure, Hermione's heart promptly stopped beating.

From the angle, Hermione couldn't see his face, but she didn't need to.

She knew that hair.

She knew that posture, that height.

"Shit," she whispered.

"I'll say," chuffed Ginny from beside her, taking another swig of her wine. "Didn't you say he wouldn't be coming?"

"I—" Hermione tried to look away, to give Ginny her attention, she really did, but now that she'd seen him, she just couldn't take her eyes off him. He was in a dark, slim fitting suit, one which from the back, complimented his skin colour and hair. It was perfectly smoothed; tailored to his size impeccably.

And—oh—he was still in good shape. _Great_ shape, if his arse had anything to say about it, and Hermione suddenly had to work a lot harder to breathe.

"I didn't think he would be," she managed to whisper.

Ginny ever so slowly turned to watch Hermione. Then, she broke out in a grin. "Oh no," Ginny said, voice breaking into a laugh. "Oh, no, no, Hermione."

Ginny's tone was enough that Hermione finally ripped her attention from Tom. "What?" she asked defensively.

"It's been a decade. A _decade._ "

"Well— yes, thank you, I hadn't realised as much."

"You're still hot for Riddle," Ginny accused, ignoring Hermione's attempt at sarcasm. "Aren't you?"

Hermione flushed. "I—how dare—I am _not—_ "

"Oh my _God_ , Hermione, he dumped you, don't you remember?"

"He—he did not _dump_ me, I— it wasn't—"

"You cried in your bed for weeks! You didn't date for a year after him! It might've been a decade, but I highly doubt he's any less of an arse than he used to be."

Hermione made an indignant squeak. "It—it was a _mutual_ split, thank you very much!"

"I don't think that agreeing to what only one of you wants counts as _mutual._ "

"I—that's—you know, I'm not going to through this with you again. We made a _mutual_ decision to go our separate ways. That's _it_."

"Yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night," Ginny chimed dismissively. "So, are you going to go talk to him? Check in? _See how he's been?_ " She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

"I think not."

"Well, why not? Look at him." Ginny hummed as though she were eyeing a piece of meat. "He might be a tosser, but even I'll say he's aged like a fine wine."

Hermione glared. "Stop it."

"I'm just saying, if you've been pining for him for ten years, then what do you have to lose? Besides— _look at him_. If I'd seen what he's got under that suit, I bet I'd be a lovesick puppy too."

" _Stop it._ "

"Was he good? I'm not sure if you ever said. Was he better than Cormac? Better than _Krum?_ "

"Ginny, that is so inapprop—oh no, Slughorn's looking this way." Hermione spun on the spot, facing herself in the opposite direction and grabbed onto Ginny's arm. " _Stop looking Ginny!_ Quickly, let's just go back to the bar and pretend we never saw—"

" _Mrs. Potter!_ _Miss Granger!_ "

While Ginny broke into an amused grin beside her and enthusiastically turned and waved, Hermione froze.

For a split second, Hermione considered running. But then, she supposed that'd only make it worse. She'd already been seen.

And so, Hermione swallowed with a loud gulp and silently questioned what she had ever done to deserve this, before she slowly turned on the spot toward the sound of her name.

Horace was looking their way, enthusiastically waving at them to come over.

"Horace," she greeted through gritted teeth, her pulse steadily accelerating.

"Come, come!" he called, waving them over.

Ginny almost skipped over, and Hermione begrudgingly followed, very nearly tripping on the hem of one of the many rugs when she noticed that Tom was _looking_ at _her_.

She—thankfully—saved herself from landing flat on her face, but the room still heated up by a good ten degrees and she suddenly felt very foolish for her choice in dress. And to make it worse, when she reached them, Ginny just happened to side closer to Malfoy, leaving an opening in their circle for her, right next to Tom.

Her palms were sweating furiously, and it took all of her self-restraint not to glare at Ginny whose eyes were positively brimming with mirth.

And—God, she'd forgotten how tall Tom was, how broad his shoulders were, how weighted his stare could be. He was still looking at her and from the dim lighting in the room, his eyes were dark, impossible to distinguish whether they were the red of her dreams or the brown of her memories. But regardless of their colour, their intensity and the slight curvature of his lips immediately had her remembering what they'd done in her dreams, the way he'd touched her, the way he'd licked her, the way he'd _fucked_ —

"Hermione," Tom greeted with the smallest of smiles, and Hermione very nearly jumped at the suddenness of it. "It's been a while."

Hermione made a sound that was _supposed_ to be a laugh but ended up coming out like more of a gurgle. "Yeah." She cleared her throat, tried not to feel the heat that was steadily accumulating in her cheeks. "Yeah, it has. What, ten years?"

Tom's eyes glanced over to the glittering reunion banner that was hovering over the bar. "That's what the banner tells me."

Hermione had the sudden desire to vanish herself into non-being, right then and there.

But then, "oh, I'm so glad you could make it, Miss Granger!" Slughorn announced in what was a welcome distraction. "I was just saying to Tom here that should we run into you, he ought to take the time to catch up." He turned to Tom. "Miss Granger has _just_ been promoted to the Deputy Head of the—erm—which Department was it?"

"Magical Creatures," Hermione provided.

"Magical Creatures, yes! We just _knew_ you'd do great things, isn't that right, Tom?"

"Absolutely."

Tom's voice was smooth as whiskey, and if Hermione hadn't been so busy trying not to flush at the sound of it, she would've been impressed by how accurate her brain had had him sounding in her dreams.

"Um—thank you," she mumbled, glancing away slightly to avoid making eye contact for too long. "But it's just a government job, you know? I'm sure anyone who put their mind to it could easily do the same..." Hermione tucked her hair back. "What—um—what about you? I thought you were travelling?"

Tom nodded. "I was. I spent the first half of the year in South America, but I've been back in England for... about a month now? Draco has been kind enough to assist me with a place to stay, and getting back in touch some of our old friends."

"Oh. Wow," was all she could think to say. He'd been back for a whole month and he hadn't even... "Right. Well." She shifted awkwardly. "You look... good. Err—as in healthy, I mean. You look healthy."

His lips pressed together, amused. "As do you."

She laughed nervously— _God, what was wrong with her—_ and averted her eyes. But it was then that she realised, to her horror, that Malfoy and Slughorn had drifted a good few metres away, engrossed in their own conversation, while Ginny had somehow managed to escape them entirely and was no longer anywhere to be seen, leaving her completely alone.

With Riddle.

Hermione focused on the pattern in the carpet and tried very hard not to think about her dreams or the fact that he hadn't reached out. Why would he reach out? They weren't together. It'd been ten _years_ since they'd been together. She had no reason to think he should've reached out, absolutely none at all. It was unfair of her, and she had no reason to be upset, none whatsoever—

"You know," Tom started, drawing her attention back to him. "I was actually quite hopeful that you'd be here."

At that, something in her stomach fluttered to life. "W-were you?"

"Mhmm," he sounded, and although the movement was only minuscule, Hermione was acutely aware of the way he shifted closer. "Forgive me for being so forward, but lately, I've found myself... missing you."

She blinked.

Missing you.

_Missing you._

Had... had she heard him correctly?

"Hermione?"

"Oh," she jolted, realising she'd been silent for an awkward amount of time. "Oh, um, you... you have?"

"Very much."

"Well." Hermione cleared her throat and tried to ignore her nerves while she subtly wiped her sweaty hand on the skirt of her dress. "I mean—it was— _you_ left _me_."

His features softened. "I know," he said softly. "But... I've thought of you often, over the years. Of us. And I always thought that eventually we'd... you know? But then there were those articles about you and that Quidditch player, and I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, so I never..."

"You've..."

Her brain stalled.

He was pulling her leg.

He'd seen her blushing from across the room, and now he was playing some sort of in-joke with Malfoy. Had to be.

"...Really?"

"Oh, absolutely," Tom answered without pause, as though as much should have been obvious. "In fact," he said, leaning closer still. "I've thought of you so often lately that I've quite recently had some of... the _strangest_ dreams about you."

Hermione blinked.

He'd... dreams?

_About her?_

That was—oh.

Oh no.

He was watching her intently, patiently, almost, and there was something playful, something _knowing_ about his expression, and—

But that was— it wasn't possible, he couldn't have—

And then, realisation dawned on her.

Oh no, no, no, _fuck no_.

Tom had spoken to her about Legilimency when they were only teenagers.

She'd laughed at him at the time. It was seriously advanced magic, far more advanced than anything she'd ever seen him do, but... who knew where he'd been in the last ten years and what he'd learned on his way, and if he knew about her dreams, then that could only mean... he must've...

"... _what?_ " Hermione eventually squeaked.

But Tom didn't elaborate, and if he thought her extended pause was odd, he didn't mention it. Instead, he laughed a light and pleasant laugh. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I'm not trying to scare you off, really. I just thought that maybe we could get a drink and catch up a bit, if you're interested?"

Oh no, no, no, suddenly, the only thing Hermione was interested in was getting the hell out of there and hiding somewhere—preferably somewhere dark and _alone_ —for a very, very long time.

"I—I'm sorry." She gestured off behind her vaguely. "I, um, I promised Ginny that I would— but that sounds— maybe... maybe some other time?"

"Hermione—"

"I'm sorry, I'll, erm, see you."

And with that, she all but ran.

She shoved through the crowd, squeezing herself through without regard for who she might've elbowed on her way, and didn't stop until she reached the Slytherin table. She downed the wine she'd been carrying in two large mouthfuls and left the glass on the table. Then, she scooped up two fresh glasses and scurried off.

Hermione had been embarrassed before. Plenty of times, far too many to count. And then, she'd been humiliated her fair share of times, too. Professor Snape had personally ensured that.

But she could not think for the life of her, of a time where she'd been as _mortified_ as this.

She took another mouthful of wine, and after that, she took another.

Okay.

_Okay._

She _really_ needed to calm down.

It wasn't likely, but it _could_ have been a coincidence.

It might've been as he'd said, and he'd had his own, independent dreams about her. And if that was the case, then that meant Tom really _had_ been thinking about her, and isn't that what she _wanted?_ To pick back up from where they'd left off all those years ago?

She took another sip of wine which finished off one of her glasses, and as she breathed in deep, calming breaths, she gradually started to believe herself and that it wasn't as bad as she'd initially thought.

He didn't know what she'd dreamt.

It was just a coincidence.

 _Of course_ it was just a coincidence. She'd had dreams of him because she knew there was a chance she'd see him here, and it was the same for him. That was all. She was just getting herself all worked up because she hadn't had sex in a year, and it happened to be him she'd been fantasising about.

It was fine.

He didn't know what she'd dreamt.

She took another sip of wine.

...and then she started to feel a little bit guilty. She really ought to apologise for running off on him like that. He'd told her how he'd felt, and she'd gone and shoved it right in his face.

Damn.

Hermione vanished her empty glass and sighed.

"Hermione!"

By her right, Ginny pushed through several of their old classmates and rushed on over to her.

"Oh my God." When Ginny reached her, she gripped Hermione's elbow and started to tug her away from her spot by the wall. "Where have you been?" she demanded.

"Where—where have _I_ been?" Hermione questioned. "Where have _you_ been?! You just—just _left me there!_ "

"I'm sorry! I never would've had I known, I swear. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left you—"

"Wait—what? Had you known... what?"

"—but I only just heard and—wait. He... he didn't tell you?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Tell me what?"

Ginny's features contorted with disgust. "Oh, that _prick_. I _knew_ he was still an arse! He seriously didn't tell you?"

" _Ginny._ What is it?"

Ginny sighed. "I... I overheard Malfoy speaking with Slughorn just now."

"And?" Hermione prompted, taking another mouthful of her wine.

" _And_ , they were talking all hush-hush, so naturally I eavesdropped a little, and Riddle—" Ginny paused and turned to check that they were out of anyone's earshot, before she whispered, "Riddle had an accident. Back in '02. Apparently somewhere out in a forest in Albania."

"An accident," Hermione parroted, her stomach sinking. Which was rather odd, wasn't it? Obviously, Tom was all right. Whatever accident it'd been couldn't have been too bad. Her stomach didn't need to be sinking. "What sort of accident?"

Ginny sighed and gave Hermione a gentle expression that was sympathetic and so unlike her, that Hermione rolled her eyes and took the opportunity to take yet another sizable mouthful of her wine.

"Hermione... Riddle's a vampire."

At once, Hermione's wine shot right up her nose and sprayed a good foot, covering Ginny with a soft mist of red.

Hermione hacked, spluttering to clear her airway, and Ginny scowled down at her own dress, hurriedly brushing away the wine droplets that'd landed on her chest.

"I-I'm so sorry." Ginny said uncharacteristically gently. "I know it's not what anyone wants to hear, and it's probably come at a huge shock—"

Ginny kept on going, but Hermione didn't hear her. She didn't hear a single word she said, because then, when her airway was finally clear, she burst into laughter.

Hermione laughed and laughed, and just when she thought she was winding down, she snorted and laughed even harder.

"...Hermione?"

Hermione laughed so hard that she had to lean over while she struggled to breathe, and it was only a solid two minutes later, that she mustered the composure to wipe the tears from her eyes. "Oh. Oh, Ginny, that's—I'm dreaming, aren't I?" Hermione wiped her eyes again and gestured around the room. "That explains all of this! This is just a dream!"

Ginny's features somehow softened even further, and she reached out to place her hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Hermione, I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do? I know you must've really liked him, and this must be such a shock."

Hermione stared for a moment, waiting for Ginny to give it up, or for herself to wake up. But when neither of those things happened, her features slowly fell. "But—you're joking. Right? This is a joke."

Ginny's eyes became spherical and she shook her head.

"Oh, come on." Hermione took in a ragged breath. "Ginny, _come on_. Did Tom and Malfoy put you up to this? Because it's not funny."

Ginny shook her head more vigorously, "I—I'm not joking, Hermione. I wouldn't do that to you, you know that."

"Well then, tell me what's going on! Because you don't truly expect me to believe that he's—that Tom—"

Hermione glanced away from Ginny, back toward the crowd of her old classmates, and as if she were being drawn in, she found a set of eyes toward the back staring right at her.

It was Tom and he was staring as if he could _hear_ their conversation, and when their eyes met—

He winked.

Oh.

Oh _fuck._

Air. She needed air.

She stiffly turned back to Ginny. "I... I need to..." Hermione dumped what was left of her drink and dashed out of there, and though she heard Ginny calling after her, she didn't turn back.

She raced out of Slughorn's office into the cold corridor of the dungeon, and didn't stop until she'd made it out to the main stairwell.

It was quiet and well-lit at the bottom of the stairs, and now that she was alone, her rapid breathing echoed loudly in the space.

Hermione put her head in her hands and leaned against the stair rail, breathing so quickly that her head started to feel light.

Vampires didn't have magical abilities. She knew that. She learned that in her first year of school, _she knew that._

So then how was it that Tom had been in her head? How had he known what she'd dreamt? And how had she known what he was in her dreams?

It didn't make sense.

It didn't make sense, it didn't make any _fucking_ —

"—ermione?"

At the deep baritone, Hermione whirled around.

And—oh God—in the light of the hallway, she could see it, the telltale crimson of his irises, the exact shade of red that'd plagued her in her dreams.

She instinctively stepped back, and Tom raised his hands submissively.

He laughed lightly. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Wha—what did you do to me?" she demanded.

His lips twitched. "Nothing."

" _Then why—_ " she broke off, forced her voice in check. "Then why am I dreaming of you?"

The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly as he crept slightly closer. And then, he murmured, "did you enjoy them? Your dreams?"

Hermione stiffened and his smile grew wider.

"I know I did."

"Stop it. Whatever you're doing, _stop._ "

"Oh, I don't think you want me to stop," he said, voice just as seductive as it'd been in her dreams. " _You_ called to _me_ , did you know? And even now, your blood is—" He breathed in deeply through his nostrils and made a rough sound of hunger, "— _singing_ to me. Oh, no, do you know what I think you want?"

She stepped back. "I want you to _leave me alone._ "

"I think you want something else. Something _more_ than your lonely life in your lonely apartment, something more your ten hour a day job, more than your bland dinners with your bland cat." He closed the space that she'd gained. "I think you want control. I think you want freedom, and I think you want power."

Hermione's back hit the cold stone wall of the corridor, and as he approached further, leaving barely a step in between them, her lip trembled.

"But most of all, Hermione," he all but purred, "I think you just want to _come._ Isn't that right?"

Hermione inhaled shakily, her mouth running dry. Tom glanced down to her lips and despite her instinctive fear, despite her brain urging her to run, she felt warmth brewing between her thighs. As if he knew it too, his lips tugged upward while he leaned in and reached up to run the tips of his fingers over her cheekbone.

His touch was cold.

"I'll be more than happy to oblige you," he said, his fingers roaming down to her jawbone and into her hair. He twisted them, lacing a tendril through them. "I can give you all that you want, and much, _much_ more. All you have to do... is invite me in."

Hermione's instincts _screamed_ at her to run, but... oh, she'd be lying if she said she wasn't tempted. After all those years and after all those dreams, here he finally was, in the _flesh_ , and the desire to melt into him, to take all he could give, was almost too much to bear.

But Hermione was many things, and stupid wasn't one of them.

"No," she snapped quickly, swatting his hand away and using the opportunity to step out from between him and the wall. "I—I won't."

Tom didn't react the way she expected him to. He didn't follow her, didn't argue. He simply gave her a sad smile and tilted his head. "We'll see." Then, he looked her down and up again, before he turned on the spot and headed back toward the party.

At the sight of his retreating form, Hermione's muscles slowly relaxed.

There. It was done. He was leaving.

She was fine.

"Oh, and Hermione?" She jumped when he called back to her, his voice echoing in the corridor. "Your pink nightgown. The silken one, the one that your tits barely fit into?"

Her breath caught in her throat. "I—how—how do you—?"

Tom winked. "Wear it tonight."

And then, just as suddenly as he'd appeared, he was gone.

* * *

Hermione had left, after that.

She braved the party for long enough to tell Ginny that she had to leave, and then, she flooed back home. When she got there, she showered, brushed her hair, cleaned her teeth, all in what might've been a light state of shock.

She took her time in feeding Crookshanks, in tidying her space, avoiding going to sleep. But eventually, well and truly past midnight, the weight of her eyelids became too much to ignore, and so, she retreated into her bedroom and put on her pink nightgown.

She kept her wand underneath her pillow, reassured by its presence, and then, she went to sleep.

* * *

She was facing the wall in her kitchen, and she was acutely aware of the fact that she didn't have any underwear on. She didn't have any recollection of how she got there or where her underwear went, but she didn't think too hard on it, because the man pressing behind her was entirely naked.

His hands, large and cool, were under her nightgown, holding her hips back against his. And his teeth, pressing firmly enough to scratch but not enough to break her skin trailed over her shoulder.

"Invite me in."

While the whisper was soft and seductive, it was unmistakably an order.

"No—" Her refusal turned into a grunt when he pushed her forward against the wall, his larger form easily pinning her in place.

The thin nightgown did nothing to soften the press of his hard cock at her hip, taunting her, teasing her.

"Invite me in," he ordered again, louder this time, before he ran his tongue across the base of her shoulder, tasting her.

She knew she needed to push him off, to get out of there, but the sensation of his tongue, the feel of his hands migrating up her sides, and the gentle nip of his teeth had her breaking out in goosebumps in anticipation.

"How long do you think you can keep me out?" He murmured against her skin, his nose trailing up her neck. "Hmm?"

"I— _ah,_ " Hermione gasped when he nipped gently at her earlobe. "Don't. Please don't—"

His chest rumbled against her back.

"I can smell it, you know. How much you want this. I can _taste_ it." He licked a line along her jawbone. "You can't hide from me, Hermione."

She tried to object, but all that she could muster was a whimper. Because, oh, how she did. Want this. Him. She wanted everything he could give her and there, against the wall with her eyes closed, it was easy to forget what he was, the danger of what she was doing, the fact that she was supposed to be resisting, and so, she rocked her hips back against him, pressing his cock harder against her arse.

"Ah, ah," he warned into her ear, his hands tightening around her hips to still them. "Careful."

She smiled at that and twisted her head to glance at him over her shoulder.

His pupils were blown wide.

"...and if I'm not?"

He smiled for only a moment before he struck.

He flipped her around and with a hand pulling roughly at her hair, he pulled her lip into his mouth. He kissed her roughly and when he bit down onto her lip, Hermione yelped at the sting.

She felt him smile against her before he ran his tongue over her sore lip, and the sound he made at the taste of her was inhuman.

It should've disgusted her, his raw hunger for her blood. It shouldn't have given her shivers, and it most definitely shouldn't have thrilled her, but that was exactly what it did.

Without breaking their kiss—if it could even be called a kiss—Tom managed to spin them around such that her back was pushing against the kitchen counter. He lifted her up, sitting her on the edge and the press of his cock against her exposed centre had her close to dripping.

Finally, he abandoned her lip, migrating downward to nip at her jaw. "Invite me—" Tom broke off to groan as she raked her nails down his back in the way she knew he always liked. "Invite me in, Hermione."

She didn't answer, far too focused on grinding herself against him, until she managed to position his cock _right_ at her entrance.

Tom growled, low and rabid, shifting to rest his forehead against hers. "Invite me in, and I'll give you everything you want."

His voice was strained now, and this time, Hermione was the one who laughed. "I think you'll give it to me anyway. Won't you?" She twisted her hips, taking him _just_ inside of her, just the tip.

His breath hitched, and, oh, _yes_ , she had him—

Suddenly, he pulled back, and with another growl, he roughly pulled her from the counter and spun her around. He shoved her forward over the cool marble of her kitchen counter, and Hermione gasped at the cold against her nipples.

But she didn't have the chance to dwell on it, because Tom wasn't fucking around, not anymore, and when he sunk all the way into her in a single, rough movement, they both groaned.

And he wasn't gentle. As if he were punishing her, Tom wasted no time before he starting fucking her in long, wet strokes, without consideration for how each movement drove her hips into the blunt edge of the counter.

Hermione gripped onto the countertop to keep herself from sliding further onto it, to give herself leverage to meet his thrusts, and it was— _fuck—_

From behind, it felt deeper than it'd been the last time and each forward drive of his cock reached a spot that had her seeing stars.

It was good. It was _so_ good, all that she'd wanted, all that she'd needed, but it...

It wasn't quite—

"Tom." Her whine was needy, desperate. "Tom, _please—_ "

His leaned in, raking his tongue up along her spine until he reached her neck teasingly, tauntingly.

"Hmm?"

"I... _fuck_ , can you... I—"

Tom made a low sound of amusement. "Say it."

" _Tom—_ "

His hands tightened on her hips, so hard it felt like she'd bruise. " _Say it_ , Hermione."

"Please. _Please_ just— I need you to—"

Without pulling out, he lifted her off of the counter and upright so that he could wrap a hand around her neck. His movements were shallower now that she was upright, short, torturous movements that weren't _quite_ enough, and his breath was cold against her ear. " _Tell me what you want_."

She almost sobbed. "Please. Please, bite m—"

Without pause, he sunk his teeth deep into her skin, and with the dual sensation of it and his cock driving deep, it was _rapturous_.

And like the push of a button, it was exactly what she needed, and she was there, she was going to—

Hermione burst upward in her bed, gasping with the air from her lost scream.

Sweat coated her skin and legs were still trembling from her robbed orgasm.

She shoved her overheated blankets off of her violently and pushed her hair back, pulling it from where it was stuck to her neck and bit her lip to stop herself from sobbing. "Fuck."

With wobbly legs, Hermione rose from the bed, and leaving her wand under her pillow, headed straight for the kitchen for some water.

Robotically, she filled a glass to the brim, and brought it to her lips. She gulped it down in no time at all and slammed the cup down onto the counter, the same one she'd dreamed of Tom fucking her on.

She ran her hands over her face. She couldn't do this, couldn't _bear_ this. If he was going to keep tormenting her in her sleep like this, she wouldn't be able to resist him for long.

But then—

 _Fuck, why should she?_ She'd wanted him back for so long, and now she could finally have him. She'd played it smart and safe all her life, and what did she have to show for it?

What was the point in resisting, when he was all that she wanted?

 _Because he could kill you_ , a dry voice in the back of her head pointed out rather unhelpfully.

Hermione sighed.

She supposed the voice had a point, and so, she did the only thing she could think to do; she groaned and leaned over, pressing her forehead against the cold countertop.

"Fuck."

After allowing herself to mope, Hermione straightened and went to head towards the bathroom to take a cold shower. She'd just reached out for her the bathroom door, when—

There was a slow knock on the door.

Hermione stilled.

Her heart started to beat wildly, thudding loudly in her throat, and though she tried to tell herself not to, like a moth to a flame, she crossed over to the door without pause.

She unlocked it, hurriedly wrenched it open—

It was Tom.

He was leaning against her doorframe lazily, still in the suit he'd worn at the party, looking as if he'd been stood there a while, his eyes burning a bright shade of crimson. He took his time raking his eyes over her, slowing over her legs and her chest, and when he was done, he broke into a wide, toothy grin.

He ran his tongue over his teeth, his canines every bit as sharp as they'd been in her dreams.

And Tom didn't say anything. He didn't have to.

Because Hermione's mind was already made up.

"Come in."

**Author's Note:**

> I still giggle like a child every time I type the word 'cock'. Ugh, even just then— ahhhh I hate it ahahahah 🙈🙈
> 
> And LOOK while I am not entirely happy with what I've written here, I've just been in SUCH a writing funk lately, that I felt like I just needed to post ANYTHING just to get in the swing of it, ya know? Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my mess. Thank you for reading, as always


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